tushanshu | Video 001

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Video 001

[Amelia is sitting straight up, looking directly at the screen. Hands folded in front of her, the very pose exudes authority; this is a woman who knows she is of rank.]

I am Captain Amelia of the Terran Royal Navy, lately returned from an expedition to locate the lost trove of the infamous pirate Nathaniel Flint, and more recently rather unceremoniously drenched in a tub of water and informed that I am to be engaging in a conflict against a malevolent entity of which I have not heard until today.

[A measured pause. Her tone indicates she is more irritated by the idea of fighting someone else’s war, rather than the prospect of combat itself. Or perhaps it is the drenching she is cross about.]

I do not care for being brought here against my will, especially if I do not know the how of it. These kedan are maddeningly unhelpful when questioned on such topics. They tell me that time has been stopped in my universe, which, if true - highly doubtful, of course - is of some relief. But if I am to stay here for an extended tenure, there are important questions that I must have answered. This…

[and here she pauses for a moment to pick her words. Amelia is not given to superstitions regarding the summoning of a monstrous being simply by speaking his name, but the kedan were very adamant about not saying it, and this has been a rather strange day. Best to not risk it, then.]

...M-fellow. I'd like to know more about him. If I have indeed been brought here to fight a war, then it is imperative that I know what I shall be dealing with. In addition, is it true we are riding on the back of a giant turtle?

[This last question is accompanied by nearly palpable disbelief.]

[The next pause is not one of calculation or thought, but of expectancy. Amelia’s waiting for her answers, and it’s only after the silence has gone on for a few seconds that she realizes replies will not be instantaneous.]

That’ll do, for the moment, so as not to overwhelm you.

[It’s a save, but she says it like it was always planned that way. She nods her head once at the screen, just ever so slightly.]

That is all.

[end transmission]

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No, there is nothing wrong indeed with being a cat, if one is, indeed, a cat. But though the creatures bear a resemblance to my kind, it does not make me a cat.

[The initial surprise has worn away by now, and her kneejerk reaction to the unintended insult has faded. A nonchalant run of her hand through her hair, and Amelia's composure has been fully regained.]

Is there anything else you would like to discuss besides the comparison of my person to four-legged house pets?

Oh, well, why did you not say so at once? I beg you pardon: I meant no offense by it. Though there was certainly no need to call me names, either, [he adds in a proportionally loud aside.]

If you are looking for information about our enemy, there is precious little to be found. Some few of us have met him personally, but even then there is little I can say: he is capable of changing his appearance, and might even now be reading what we say, so of course it is more sensible to discuss the matter off the network.

[The subject is hardly one he wishes to talk about, anyway, so he hastily resumes:] So you are in a Royal Navy: I thought as much, given your uniform; it is very like Laurence's. What sort of trove were you looking for?

[This day is full of surprises, being apologized to by a dragon not the least of them.] It is of no concern. Simply a surprise to hear it from such an unexpected source.

[From Amelia, it’s as much of an apology accepted you’re going to get. She chooses to ignore the added statement, though from narrowing of her eyes as it is spoken it was certainly heard.]

If he does listen in on our communications, it would be ill-advised to discuss him further. [This is stacks up with what Shepard has told her already. Besides, the dragon is much more interested in other parts of her introduction, it seems.]

Flint’s trove, the loot of a thousand worlds, Treasure Planet, all are names for it. It doesn’t matter now, though. All of it has been lost. [She’s far more intrigued by a dragon that knows of navies, now that the insult is out of the way.] How does a creature such as yourself come to know of uniforms and navies? And who is this Laurence?

An entire planet full of treasure?

[Impossible not to notice the wistful look that crosses Temeraire's face and the longing note in his voice, both of which are immediately replaced with alarm as Amelia reveals its fate. He stares at her in open dismay, the questions about navies and Laurence momentarily forgotten.]

I should think it matters a great deal: surely you can find it again, if it has been lost; it would be terribly careless of you otherwise. Was it very beautiful?

Edited 2013-11-17 06:20 (UTC)

More precisely the core of it, as that was where the gold and jewels were buried, but still a sizable amount.

[The look of want, followed by the absolute shock at her admission to the treasure's loss, almost keep Amelia from expanding upon the trove's true fate. Almost. Of course, then the great beast has to go and imply carelessness on her part.]

I never saw a drubloon of it, myself. I was... indisposed at the time it was located. And no, we cannot find it again. By lost I mean destroyed; Flint's final act was to ensure no other could steal his ill-gotten gains.

[She's recalling the harrowing flight through fire and debris, during which she was too injured to be of great assistance other than giving verbal orders.]

We barely escaped the explosion of the planet with our lives.

Well, that makes sense: that way you might ensure it could not be stolen, and I suppose it would be difficult to keep track of an entire planet full of treasure, if you spread all of it on the surface.

[There is still a slight wistfulness to his words every time he says planet. What a shame it is, what a very great shame it is--]

--destroyed?

[Of course one might wish to protect one's hoard, particularly if one had accrued an entire planet of it--but this is utterly beyond Temeraire's comprehension. He all but roars the word: his ruff has gone straight back in horror, his teeth slightly bared in pure distress, and--most tellingly of all--the beginnings of the divine wind rumbling in his chest, more out of instinct than anything else.]

I cannot fathom the logic of it--why, there are a great many things one might do instead of destroy one's own treasure! One might kill the people trying to take it outright, or set traps, or--

[His voice fades away, and he stares at Amelia, tendrils twitching slightly. An entire planet of treasure, utterly destroyed. It beggars belief.]

[Amelia’s ears twitch ever so slightly as the word is roared at her. But she remains calm; a dragon is nothing to a supernova, after all.]

Flint has been dead a hundred years. The planet’s detonation was the trap he set, the final act of greed by the most wretched fiend to have sailed the Aetherium. [Amelia allows herself more than a touch of anger at this; Flint's eluding of the Royal Navy is still a black mark on the fine record of the fleet.]

[The dragon is clearly upset, though he seems to have calmed slightly. The captain decides a topic change is in order, if only to prevent another outburst.]

I believe it would be best if we dropped the subject. Tell me, what do you know of navies? [It’s a repeat of her earlier question, but likely a safer discussion than that of Treasure Planet, which has so clearly riled this dragon up.]

Then I am not at all sorry he is dead; he was wretched, if he was so stupid as to destroy so many fine treasures, and all out of spite besides.

[He stews in his indignation for a moment longer. It hardly matters that Amelia did not even manage to lay eyes on the treasure: of course there would have been fine tapestries, and golden chalices, and jewels, and--

With some effort he pulls himself out of his little reverie, vaguely aware that she has just asked him another question.]

Oh, enough, I suppose: my captain was in the British Royal Navy when my egg was captured from the French, you see, and I spent my first few weeks aboard his ship. I cannot say they are a patch on the Aerial Corps, but I like some of them well enough, and they run transports for us, when we have somewhere we need to be, and it is too far to fly.

Then we shall agree he was a wretch, and leave it at that.

[Amelia would argue that Flint’s wretchedness stemmed from him being a pirate who terrorized the Aetherium, rather than from destroying his ill-gotten goods, but she has no desire to discuss such things further, given Temeraire’s reaction.

And there’s that word ‘British’ again.]

I take you are of Earth, then. What duties are served by the Aerial Corps that cannot be accomplished by the Navy? And your captain captured your egg? I’m afraid I don’t understand. [She’s genuinely curious about the former, and a little baffled at the latter; capturing eggs is not usually the way one goes about adding to their crew. It sounds downright barbaric, actually.]

[Temeraire mantles, a little affronted by the question.]

I should think the proper question you ought to be asking is what duties are served by the Navy that cannot be accomplished by the Aerial Corps, except perhaps to provide the occasional landing platform if we must fly out to sea.

[It is likely the residual prickliness, but even this story, which he is so fond of telling, is shorter than usual:] My egg was on a French ship, the Amitié, and the French and the British are at war, so when the Reliant captured the Amitié my egg was taken aboard Laurence's ship, as prize. And then I hatched, and chose him for my captain: it is very simple.

[It seems Amelia has again gotten under the dragon's skin. So long as he doesn't become upset a second time, though, she does not have any problems with keeping him a little ruffled.]

Perhaps I should have phrased the question better: are your Navy’s ships incapable of flight themselves? Although I’m quite certain you’ve already answered that for me. [She taps her fingers in thought.] Has anyone of your world ever actually left Earth?

You were allowed to select your own captain? If such things were allowed in the Terran Empire, the breakdown in discipline aboard ships would have greatly reduced the navy’s effectiveness years ago. [It’s clear she doesn’t think too highly of this Earth’s practices.]

[He grumbles a little, but settles back to think on her question.] Of course they have not; then they would not be ships any more. As for leaving Earth entirely, I am told we shall, given another century and a half.

[And then--oh, and then she must go on and talk of discipline, and effectiveness, as if she had any right to criticize his choice! Of course she is speaking, Temeraire reminds himself sharply, from a position of ignorance--but it is so very irritating, all the same.]

I should imagine that is because your ships cannot think for themselves, and cannot complain, should they be given over to a harsh or a careless captain. It is the way of things, in the Aerial Corps, to give eggs to captains without the hatchlings have the opportunity to say anything for themselves, and I have seen captains who had no right to be anywhere near a covert assigned to dragons who deserved far better. As for Laurence, they tried to take him away from me, too, and give me another captain, but I would not have him: I cannot imagine anyone would.

Ships are still ships, regardless of whether or not they can fly. A shame that you are planet bound. [There is pity in her voice. Space travel is wonderful.]

That would change things, yes. [She concedes the point about captain selection, but you have her attention now, Temeraire.] So hatchlings are normally assigned to captains, but you chose your own? And your duties in the Aerial Corps, they are primarily military, correct? [She's visibly leaning forward now, very interested in this concept. There's no real comparable unit in the Terran Empire, after all.]

But are they not called--rockets, if they travel through space? [The specifics of the twentieth century and onward are still a little vague to him--probably because they are so many of them here.]

Yes, that is correct, at least in England, and in most of Europe, as well: intolerable as I find the situation, I suppose we are after all at war. [Beat.] But in China they have so many dragons that no-one would dare to attack them anyway, and there the dragons have rights as any sentient citizen might, and are employed as they will, and can choose their own companions.

No, they are still ships. I don't see why they should be called anything else.

[Amelia's ears pick up at the mentioned difference between draconic treatment in China and elsewhere.]

You do not have the same rights as other species in your own nation? [The concept is, frankly, quite foreign to Amelia, and it shows in the edge of confusion in her voice. Yes, there are differences among the peoples of the Terran Empire, but not in how they are treated as citizens.] But you are clearly sentient!

[A faint snort.] Of course you would come to such a conclusion: anyone who has spoken to us at length, or spent any significant amount of time with us, would say the same. But it is another matter entirely to persuade people of our sentience when they will not so much as come near us, or permit us in their cities.

[Amelia mulls over this for a moment before speaking again.]

Admittedly, a dragon appearing in a city would be cause for alarm within the Empire, but you are clearly more eloquent than the beasts of the Calyan Abyss. [Okay, yes, she does understand avoiding contact with space dragons, but they don't talk and are certainly not sentient.]

I do not see why you would tolerate living in a nation that refuses to recognize your kind's intelligence.

[He has learned, over time, to be philosophical about this sort of thing, distressing as it is.] One hears of dragons here and there, from other worlds, and they are all so very different: some of them are not capable of speech, at all, and some do not even have forelegs, but there is no such variation among the humans who have arrived. I wonder why that is? [And, seeing as it is his turn to be curious:] And what sort of Empire is this, pray?

Well, it is difficult to bear, of course, and it would be very nice to live in China, but my captain should never consent to it, so long as there is a war on, and his loyalty is to the King; and besides, one cannot make things better for other dragons by simply leaving.

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Video 001

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